


Made Me Complete

by orphan_account



Series: Chao's Kink Bingo [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But it's magic so screw it, Community: kink_bingo, First Time, Fluffy as shit, Henna probably does not work this way, M/M, Magic training, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a session of Shaman training with Deaton, Stiles finds a new way to connect with Derek.  Then they both find another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made Me Complete

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Somewhere Only We Know' by Keane

Sometimes, the lessons Stiles had been getting from Deaton were the best part of his week. That might have been kind of mean of him to say, since he was spending more time with his father now that he knew about the whole werewolf thing, and he was regularly attending the ‘Pack Meetings’ as the group of them worked out how a Pack would actually work.

But those things weren’t really productive. Not for him. Sure, he might occasionally throw out a suggestion on occasion, and he did love talking with his dad, but at Deaton’s he was doing something. Learning. Discovering the ways that he, the human with nothing special to him, could make a difference. 

The fact that the Sheriff seemed to take a little bit of exception to the lessons and gave him a bit of tutelage in the ways of detective work after? That was a serious bonus.

Stiles was also simply healthier than he had been during the school year. The added stress of school was gone, and they were at a glorious pause between terrible shit happening. The lessons also gave him the feeling that he was _doing_ something, for when the next crisis hit. He’d been sleeping better now, and not so much on edge. The constant blaring of _THREAT_ had died down into a low background noise, and he could function again.

Occasionally, the lessons were kind of weird, though. Like, today, for example. The lesson had been all about channeling energy and ways of improving that, and Stiles had ended up being the example. He’d spent the entire weekend there, first having this weird stuff applied to his skin, which, when dried, acted as a sort of conductant to help him learn how energies flow through the body. The dye had gone on in fancy patterns, that Stiles now knew (in glorious, dull detail) helped to move the energy faster and concentrate it, as well as made it look like just another henna tattoo. 

Stiles couldn’t decide if the solid black on his middle and pointer fingers, or the bands around his eyes were worse. The bits on his fingers kept _sparking_ when he touched something with concentrated Chakras (or, as he found out, live electricity), but the ones on his eyes made him _see_ it. There were flashing and impressions of color and light in the corner of his eyes near constantly, and it was really freakin’ distracting.

He probably shouldn’t have driven home, is what he was getting at.

When he finally, finally made him home, it was already dark and his Dad was asleep. Quietly as he could, Stiles slipped into the house and relocked the door. As he reached his door, he paused, because there was a flash of green from his room, unimpeded by the wall. Either there was some very powerful spiritual item in there (unlikely, without Stiles already knowing it), or someone was waiting for him.

Stiles had a pretty good idea who.

Pushing open his door, he gave his visitor a wide grin. “Did you miss me?” It was really nice, actually, to not be startled by one of the wolves sneaking up on him. Okay, Stiles decided. The eyes were fine with him. The fingers were the annoying ones.

Derek sent him a bland look and snorted, but that didn’t fool Stiles. The guy was waiting for him in his room again. This was getting to be a regular thing. Even if Derek didn’t return his ridiculous... ah, attachment, that was still a sign that they were Bros. Especially since he was sitting in the desk chair that Stiles rarely used. It was Derek’s Chair now, and Stiles kind of liked that more than he wanted to admit.

The Alpha opened his mouth to reply with something no fun, like ‘I’m only checking in on you out of Pack duty’ or whatever excuse he had stored (at least, Stiles preferred to pretend they were excuses), but then he froze, eyes narrowing. They went red and Stiles tense. But apparently Derek was just turning on the night vision goggles, because he didn’t look like he was preparing to fight a threat. Instead he got up and snagged one of Stiles’ hands, holding it up so it caught the moonlight. “What is this?”

“It’s my new look. All the rage, you know how it is. Lydia will be totally jealous I got it first.” Derek didn’t react to the joke, eyes fixated with almost uncomfortable intensity, and Stiles frowned. “It’s just Henna, dude. Or, magic Henna. For magic stuff. Remember? Training? Deaton? This ringing a bell for you?”

Still not responding, Derek slowly reached his fingers up and pressed them to the tip of Stiles’. The odd static-shock feeling of magic _surged_ through him, and Stiles gasped, the sound startlingly loud in the silence of the late hour.

The noise finally snapped Derek’s attention, and his eyes snapped up to meet Stiles’. Even without the red glow, they seemed almost luminescent in the moonlight, and Stiles swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Stupid, _stupid_ crush. “You shouldn’t do that.” Derek murmured, voice soft and rough. “These sort of markings aren’t a game. They’re-”

Derek’s shoulders jerked, and Stiles suddenly remembered about the tattoo on his back. The one that represented the types of wolves and the phases of the moon. The one that was in remembrance of his family as it once was. 

Sighing, Stiles shrugged. “It’s temporary. Just a few weeks.” He reminded gently, and the way a little bit of the odd tension in Derek’s body relaxed. “But even if it was, they’re still not meaningless.” He let the silence hang until Derek’s eyes met his again. “They’re about holding my own weight. Learning how to be something more than just Stiles. They’re proof that I’m not completely useless, okay? So don’t tell me that they’re just a game.” His voice came out harsher on the last sentence, and he realized his own shoulders had gone tense. Making himself relax a little, Stiles ducked his head, not really interested in Derek’s expression. He didn’t want to see agreement, that he was the weakest link, or to hear that this wouldn’t help, that nothing could, so long as he was the one who wasn’t special.

But then wide fingers traced over the marks around Stiles’ eyes, and his startled gaze snapped automatically to Derek. The Alpha’s brows were drawn in anger and confusion, but the other hand was still holding onto his and he couldn’t back away.

“You’re not.” Derek rumbled, nearly a growl. “You’ve helped.” Flashing back to being helpless and paralyzed on the floor while Matt went for his father, Stiles snorted. Eyes going hard, Derek shook his hand like a dog with a bone, like physical coercion had ever really cowed Stiles for long. Silence hung between them for a long time, connected by Derek’s hands, before the Alpha’s expression finally loosened. “I’m sorry.”

Oh. That was a rare gem. Now if only Stiles understood what he was apologizing for. Before he could open his mouth to ask, Derek took two steps back and sat down on Stiles’ bed, dragging him with him. They ended up pressed together, and Stiles hoped Derek would take his pounding heart as being startled rather than agreeable. For a second the older man worked his jaw, like he didn’t know how words worked. “You try. You’re Pack. That makes you important. If you think otherwise... I need to work more on being an Alpha, then.”

Stiles’ mouth fell open, and he wasn’t really sure how to protest that. On one hand, Derek was actually try to work at being an Alpha now, instead of doing as he always had an expecting everyone to fall in line. But there was always room for improvement, and Stiles didn’t want to be the guy to interrupt that. On the other hand... what the hell?

Seeming to taking his gaping as the end of the conversation, Derek went back to examining Stiles’ hand, tracing a finger over the swirls and dots and lines. It wasn’t so much a pattern as it was a mathematical equation, and Stiles kind of wanted to shove it under Lydia’s nose until her eyes lit up and she got caught up in understanding it (he would always have a thing for Lydia, even if it wasn’t so romantic anymore, and that included doing little things to make her smile), and more of the little sparks ran through him, making him gasp. Shifting his grip lightly, Derek’s eyes darted up to Stiles’ again for one fleeting moment, before he brought the tips of his fingers to his mouth and kissed them.

The dual sensation of shock and soft made Stiles groan without meaning to, and Derek’s eyes flashed with emotion, too fast for Stiles to follow. Shifting the fingers on his face so they were cupping rather than touching, Derek used that to pull Stiles’ head down and press their lips together.

At first the touch was soft, only barely there. It gave Stiles plenty of time to back off, to get away. But, yeah. No way. His own hand slipped up and around to cup Derek’s neck, and he pushed upward, making the kiss deeper. After all, he’d always been good at pushing Derek. Might as well use it for his own benefit.

Then all bets were off, because suddenly Stiles was on his back on the bed and Derek’s weight was half on him and that was really nice. Grinning up into his mouth, Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s thighs and arched into his touch. It felt good. Amazingly good, really, in a way he’d never experienced. But he wanted more. Much more. Now, please. 

Pulling away enough to get some breath, Stiles pressed their foreheads together, smiling when he could catch flashes of forest green light in Derek’s eyes. “There’s lube in the bedside table,” He informed Derek, nuzzling up a little. “If that’s what you want.”

He got a growl in return, and suddenly his shirt was being pulled over his head. Not that Stiles particularly minded, really, but he really didn’t want to be the only one. Pulling at the bottom of Derek’s shirt, he yanked until the Alpha helped him slip it off. Immediately, his hands started to trace the planes of his chest and back, moving his mouth to lick at Derek’s throat. The sparks were starting to feel almost good, oddly, and it was cool how the feeling got stronger or weaker as he passed over different energy spots.

Eventually, one of his hands found the tattoo on Derek’s back. The older man didn’t go tense or pause, but there was something heavier about how he moved, slipping his hands down the back of Stiles’ pants and oh, huh. What had he been doing, again?

Right, tattoo. It felt almost like a blank spot to his fingers, the natural energies blocked by the layer of normal ink. Even without looking, Stiles was able to trace it and imagined the spirals in his mind. Pressing small kisses to Derek’s shoulders, Stiles arched up into him and nuzzled a bit, trying to be a comfort.

Apparently he must have done something, because Derek ducked his head down to catch Stiles’ lips again, this kiss slow and warm in contrast to the way they were pressing together hard below. Taking advantage of his hands’ placement, Derek tore off Stiles’ jeans and underwear in one go. The sudden open air made him gasp and shiver, and the Alpha watched him with an expression that was far too satisfied.

Giving him a toothy smile back, Stiles’ free hand slipped down to palm over the bulge in Derek’s jeans. The Alpha’s breath hitched and he stilled like he was trying not to buck, which made Stiles’ expression morph into a smirk. Unzipping him, he pulled the jeans down carefully, swallowing hard as his proportionally sized cock was revealed. That was... um... well, Stiles couldn’t say he hadn’t ever had something in his ass, but a little playing with his fingers was nothing compared to that.

Noticing his nerves, Derek kicked out of his jeans and pressed soft kisses to Stiles’ mouth. He didn’t say anything, but shifted up so they weren’t touching except for the hand on his back and their heads. Instead he just waited and gave Stiles’ space. Which was sweet, but totally unnecessary. Giving him another peck, Stiles arched back up into him. “Lube? Anytime now, buddy.”

Huffing fondly, Derek rolled his eyes and reached over. It took a minute of fumbling and then a flash of Alpha eyes for him to grab the lube, which settled something in Stiles. Derek was probably just as nervous as he was. If even the Big Bad Wolf was feeling twitchy, he was completely justified.

And that helped, weirdly, as he listened to Derek pop the cap on the lightly used lube and squirt some into his hand. It even helped when he felt a blunt finger at his entrance, pressing wetly against the muscle. But the kisses he got from Derek, small and soothing and ever so slightly distracted were what got him through the first finger entering.

It didn’t hurt, really. There was kind of an odd burn, like the first time he’d tried with his own fingers, but it was mild at best. Derek started to work the finger, twisting and pumping it until he was as loose as he could be, before he started to work in a second, and eventually a third.

Pulling away a little, Derek nuzzled at the side of Stiles’ face. His fingers started to twist in the same direction, searching for something, and Stiles’ fingers tested against the tattoo as he waited. When they found his prostate, he gave a loud gasp that Derek muffled with his mouth. Pleasure coursed through him, and Stiles bucked down onto his fingers, while his own started to trace Derek’s tattoo again, over and over and over in nearly frantic, mindless repetitions.

Finally deciding Stiles was stretched enough, Derek’s fingers slipped out, replaced with the blunt head of his cock. For a second they both stayed as they were, tense in anticipation, and then Derek pushed forward, passed the ring. It took a long time for him to fully settle in, and when he did Stiles gave a deep sigh. It was good. Really good. Better than he’d expected, anyway, even after the research he’d done on the subject (AKA porn).

Twisting his head, Derek lapped at the tattoos around Stiles’ eyes as he let the younger man adjust. Giving contented mumbles at the contact, Stiles clenched a few times around him, and then bucked down. There was still a little burn, but it was more than mostly good, and he would really like some more, please.

Derek eyed him for a moment, judging his honesty, but it wasn’t like he knew already. Bucking again, Stiles scowled at him until he finally gave a little thrust. Even that little bit felt so much better than just _sitting_ there, and Stiles gave a moan, this one soft and low. Really, if this was going to be a thing, he needed to get quieter so he wouldn’t alert his dad. Or invest in a gag. Either way, really.

Taking his moan for the encouragement it was, Derek fitted their mouths together again and started to thrust in earnest. Pleasure shot up Stiles’ spine and pool in his stomach, hot and tense, and his hand spread over the tattoo, feeling the contrast between ink and sparking skin in his own.

Eventually the thrusts started to get harder and faster and more urgent, and Derek let out a low rumble into Stiles’ mouth. The vibrations made him shiver and, coupled with a particularly nice hit to his prostate, made his free hand snap down to wrap around himself. A few pulls later he was coming between them, stripping both their stomachs and painting off-white over his tattoos. The clenching must have been too much for Derek, because a second later he followed and then went limp, half on top of Stiles.

For a long second they just stayed like that, both panting. Then, Stiles slid his hand out from between them, clenching it against the sticky feeling. “Next time we should use a condom.” He murmured.

Snorting, Derek shook his head. “You’re a virgin and I’ve been... not playing the field. What do we need a condom for? Are you worried about getting knocked up or something? I hate to break it to you, but that’s not possible.” 

Stiles squirmed. “Condoms have a variety of ways to keep sex safe. Health class lied. They are good things. They should be used.” Derek rolled his eyes - he couldn’t hear it, but he _knew_ , so he just huffed. “The fact that we’re having this conversation means there is going to be an again, right?”

Twisting his head to look at him better, Derek watched him for a second, before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Good.” With that, Stiles snuggled and squirmed until Derek wasn’t half squishing him anymore, and then back into his arms. Once he was settled, he placed his hand back over the tattoo and let himself drift. Hopefully Derek wouldn’t be gone when he woke up, and then they’d talk. For now, he was pretty content with the world. 

After this, Deaton training probably wouldn’t be the best part of his week anymore. Stiles was very willing to deal with that.


End file.
